


Sickness and Health

by dancergrl1



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Honorary Barnum Philip Carlyle, Philip Carlyle is a big brother, Sick Character, Sickfic, big brother philip carlyle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 10:19:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13568520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancergrl1/pseuds/dancergrl1
Summary: He just needs to walk away, just for a second. It wasn’t that the lights were too bright, he was just fine with the temperature, he just...needed a break. Yeah. That’s what it was. He had...at least, he thinks he has 20 minutes until curtain. He’s got time to just step outside and get...fresh air. He’s not going after it for how cooling it will feel under his coat.—overheated characters who go outside in the middle of winter to cool offthey don’t even realize how feverish they are.Barnum gets sick and pushes through, then Charity and Philip get him through the recovery. Cute fluff, angst, love, Philip as a big brother





	Sickness and Health

**Author's Note:**

> So hi um yeah I started this a couple days ago and it ran away, so...here! Enjoy! Please feel free to give feedback and offer ideas!

He just needs to walk away, just for a second. It wasn’t that the lights were too bright, he was just fine with the temperature, he just...needed a break. Yeah. That’s what it was. He had...at least, he thinks he has 20 minutes until curtain. He’s got time to just step outside and get...fresh air. He’s not going after it for how cooling it will feel under his coat. 

Philip turns to ask Barnum a question, and sees he’s nowhere to be found. What the hell? They had 5 minutes till opening, and he was practically the main act! Where the hell did he go? 

A hand snakes onto Philip’s shoulder. He knows without turning around it’s Anne. “What’s wrong?”

“Barnum’s gone MIA with 5 minutes to curtain.”

“Let’s go ask around, someone’s bound to have seen him. He’s not subtle in that red coat of his.”

She makes a good point. Someone always sees something, there are just too many bodies not to. “Lettie, you seen Barnum?”

Lettie turns around, finishing checking her costume. “Nope, but his coat’s on it’s hook. Check outside, he wasn’t looking quite right earlier.” 

Anne nods towards the exit, her costume does not cover enough to go outside, on the docks, in March. It’s still freezing, literally. 

Thankfully, Letty’s prediction is right on. PT Barnum, human ice block, is out here without his coat and his shirt flapping in the wind.

“Barnum, what the hell are you thinking?!” 

Barnum can’t quite seem to meet his eyes, and Philip takes another step forward in case he falls. It doesn’t look like a far fetched possibility.

“Barnum? Where’s your coat?” Philip asks, forcefully, but softer than the first time. Lettie was right. Barnum’s eyes are glazed, and his undershirt is soaked in sweat. 

“Philip? What are you doing? We have a show.” he mumbles.

So he’s not all gone, not delirious, Philip thinks. He’s aware of what’s going on and he’s...another glance in Barnum’s direction corrects that thought, vaguely aware of his surroundings. Balance is off, eyes glazed, sweating, not quite steady. In this evaluation, Philip also decides he’ll be ringmaster for the evening. He’s not willing to risk PT’s health. 

“Barnum, it’s almost time for the show. Let’s head inside, yeah? It’s cold out here.” Philip tries to coax him back in. 

“No, it feels...nice out here. Not as hot as in there.” 

Now Philip knows something’s wrong. It’s only in the low 40s in the back of the tent, there’s not enough insulation in the world to properly keep a canvas tent warm. So Barnum shouldn’t be that warm backstage

“Phineas, let’s at least get your coat if you’re gonna stand out here.” Philip tries again.

“Philip?” Anne calls out from the flap of the tent. “We’ve only got a couple more minutes!”

“C’mon PT, let’s go back in. We’ve gotta lead the show. And get you your coat.” Philip starts to lead Barnum back into the tent, his protests dead on his lips. When they re-enter the tent, Lettie meets Philip’s eyes. They have a silent conversation, and Lettie rushes off to go find Charity to bring her sick husband home. He’s not going to get any better here. 

A harried-looking Charity rushes into the back, ushering the girls in front of her. “Oh, Phin,” she sighs. “Something wasn’t right when he left, but I thought it would correct itself. I should have known, he’s always been so good at hiding it.” Striding towards her husband, she takes his arm. 

“Chairy, I have...the...show.” He stumbles out, clearly not completely with it. He doesn’t, however, attempt to pull away from her to go back. 

“Darling it’s Phillip’s turn to lead the show. Don’t you remember?” Charity tries. It works, and a light of recognition comes behind his eyes. Barnum lets Charity lead him away, the girls trailing behind them, a little scared.

“Charity!” Philip calls out. Caroline stops and turns. “I’ll be by afterwards.” 

Caroline smiles and scampers back behind her parents, decidedly lighter in her step. “Philip, curtain!” Anne calls out. He runs off, vowing to make this show the fastest one yet.

—

The carriage ride home is quiet. Charity is trying to test how coherent her husband is, clearly disbelieving that he was, in his words, “Fine.” By the time the family reaches the front door, it takes her and a butler to get him to the porch. She allows another staff to take over while she ushers the girls to their room, reassuring them she would absolutely tuck them in as soon as she checked on Daddy. He was a whole different story. He was too far gone to realize who he was with, and was fighting, albeit weakly, with the staff who were only trying to help. They happily ceded responsibility to the mistress of the house. “Philip Carlyle will most likely be calling following the show. Allow him straight up here, though I doubt he’ll let you do otherwise. Get a glass of water, a bucket with water-yes, separately-and cloths. Now, go!” She waves her hand and the servants have scattered. She turned to face her husband, who looked more like the lost little boy she fell in love with than the strong, confident ringmaster he played onstage. “Phin?” She said quietly. He looked up at her, glazed eyes shining with exhaustion. “Let’s get you into something more comfortable, darling.” She decides for him. He doesn’t exactly protest. She begins to undress him, starting with the shirts soaked in sweat. Once he’s changed into dry clothes, she lays him down. “Chairy,” He breathes. He’s practically asleep. Once he is, she’ll go check on the girls, and the servants should be back any moment with what she requested, Philip will probably be here within the hour, and then she’ll be back with her husband. Stubborn as he was, this was the life she signed up for. She looks at her stubborn, loveable, adoring husband, and he’s breathing evenly and deeply. He’ll be well enough for her to go to her girls.

“Mommy?” Comes from down the hallway. It’s uncanny, her girls timing. She walks down the hallway, trying to calm herself before she scared the girls.

“Someone called?” She asks with a smile. She notes, somewhat sadly, that both of the girls are in the same bed. That was never a good sign. They only did that when they were uncertain and scared.

“Is...is daddy gonna be okay?” Helen asked. Caroline was too busy trying to hold herself together. 

“He is, and you know why?” Charity asked. Both the girls shook their head. “Because he’s got you,” she said, tracing her finger down Caroline’s nose and making her giggle a little, “And you,” she continued, giving Helen a peck on the forehead, “and Philip, and me, and the circus. Nobody is going to let him not be okay. Let’s light the wishing machine and scramble to bed.” She finished. The girls ensconced themselves in their blankets, warm and snug. “Goodnight, princesses.” Charity whispered. The girls were sleeping before she left the doorway.

Now back to her husband.

She found the servants had left what she had requested in the room by his bedside. The man himself was still asleep. She took a few minutes to evaluate him. He was breathing easily, and at least had the sheet covering him. He was a few shades paler than normal and his cheeks were flushed bright red. She took action, and wet a cloth with the cool water. Reaching under his shirt, she began to wipe the cloth across his chest, trying to cool him. After a few minutes of her ministrations, he began to squirm.

“It’s...it’s too...cold...please...stop...too cold, no, stop!”

Her hands stilled, the cloth still against his chest. She gently removed it and put it on his forehead. Come hell or high water, he was going to cool down. Charity suspected that with Philip there would be a doctor. He planned ahead like that. Unlike her, she chided herself. Ah, well, the show was bound to be over by now. He’d be here soon. Back to the problem at hand, she still had an upset, squirming, slightly panicked husband who refused the cool cloth that, hours ago, would have felt amazing.

“Phin, it’s just me. It’s Charity. I’m sorry that I hurt you, it’s ok. Can you open your eyes?”

“Char’y” he mumbled. “Make them...stop...it’s...it’s too..cold and I…I don't feel so good…” he continued to ramble on like this without ever really opening his eyes.

“Phineas, open your eyes, I need you to drink some water.” Charity was more insistent this time.

He sluggishly opened them, and a dopey smile crossed his face when he saw her. “Chairy...you’re...you’re really...here.” He began to drift off again, and she shook him to keep him awake. He groaned, not unlike an unhappy small child. “Ti...tired...Chairy…” he nearly whined. She had to bite back the smile, for he sounded so much like Caroline and Helen when she shook them awake in the morning.

“I know darling, but you’ve got to stay awake. I need you to drink some water. Can you do that?” She asked a little more forcefully. She needed to get something into him. He nodded sluggishly, and she held the glass to his lips. He tried to pull away when he realized it was cold, but she shook her head kindly. “Just a couple sips, Phin. For the girls.” He frowned, a surprisingly good imitation of Caroline’s pout, but complied. When he pulled away, Charity let him. “Let’s get you laid back down darling. You can sleep until Philip arrives with the doctor.” It didn’t take long for the ill man to fall back asleep. Charity sat next to him, a hand on his back to reassure him she was here. As usual, he was too good at hiding when he was getting sick. He pushed through it, letting it fester and grow until he hit the bottom. It was always the same story. Charity’s train of thought was interrupted by feet on the stairs. Philip, she thought with relief. It would be easier to handle with another adult in the house. Someone to help with the girls, the staff, and the house. That way she could focus on her husband. She heard another step follow behind him, and smiled. The doctor. That way they could get to the bottom of this. What a mess.

Philip entered the room, and the first thing Charity noticed was the lack of coat or tie. He had come only in his winter coat and his undershirt. “How is he?” Philip stage whispered.

“Too far gone.” came Charity’s reply. “I was trying to cool him down and he was delirious, didn’t really know what was going on. He’s been asleep for most of the time we’ve been here, but his clothes were drenched by the time we got back. He could barely get out of the carriage.”

Philip shook his head. “How could I have missed it?” he asked himself. 

“We all did, even me. Don’t beat yourself up.”

The doctor entered then, and Charity relayed the basics of the situation. The doctor couldn’t do much, just prescribed water and rest, and an order to call him if it got worse. And so the waiting began.

As the hours rolled on, Charity’s eyes began to refuse to stay open. There was one problem, however, because everytime she moved away, Phineas began to toss and turn, eyes scrunching up. “Just lay with him.” Philip mumbled. He was exhausted as well. Doing a show took a lot out of him on a good day, and having the worry of Barnum hanging over his head didn't help matters. He'd slumped in a chair brought in by the butler. His eyes were permanently propped at half mast. “Whatever he's got, you'll probably get as well or already had.” Charity had to admit the man had a point. She laid next to her husband, and she was asleep in seconds.

\---

The adult’s rest didn't last long. Somewhere near midnight, Barnum wakes shrieking. Only imagining what he's seeing in his mind's eye, Charity bolts up next to him and Philip races over. 

“Barnum, Barnum... Phineas, wake up, it’s a dream, you’re ok.” When none of these statements magically work, he resorts to trying to keep Barnum safe from himself by simply holding him, and holy hell is he burning up. 

“Mommy...Mommy!” Helen’s blonde hair and tired eyes peek around the corner. Well, wasn’t this a wrench they didn’t need. Philip was way too tired for this, but realized it’s what he signed up for. A glance at Charity told him she was feeling torn, and he winked. He saw an ounce of tension bleed out of her shoulders. At least he was helping, for once. Stopping that train of thought in its tracks, he turned around. 

“Hey mouse. What’s wrong?” Philip asked, striding over to her. He swung her in the air and then held her close.

“Caroline and I heard a noise. It sounded like someone screaming!” She relayed, eyes as wide as saucers. Philip looked at Charity, who nodded. They tried to be honest with their daughters at a level they could understand.

“Let’s go lay back down in your room and then we can talk about it, OK?” Philip didn’t really leave her a choice as he carried her on his hip out of the room.

That left Charity with her Phin, who had stopped screaming but instead was sitting up wide eyed, on the cusp of hyperventilating. She approached him slowly, carefully, like the lion tamer with her lions. She didn’t know what to expect. “Phin?” She asked gently. She put a hand on his wrist, and he didn’t pull back. It was progress. She kept calling to him, slowly moving closer. Finally, she had him in a tight embrace, and after moments, he slumped against her. Feeling her heart skip a beat, she pushed him back gently, so she could see his face. He’d fallen back asleep sitting up. She shook him gently, trying to keep him hydrated. “Phin, I need you to take a drink. Open your eyes back up, darling.” He groaned hoarsely. “No...please? Iss...iss too cold.” He slurred. The situation was getting more tenuous by the second. She made a decision. “Love, you have two choices. I can cool you with the rag, or you can drink water.” He grimaced, but mimed drinking, so she was satisfied for the moment. After getting about half the glass down, she conceded defeat. They laid back down, and Charity heard a half-dragging step coming down the hall. While she continued her ministrations to get him back to sleep, she looked at Philip. “So, what exactly did you tell my children?” She asked. There was no venom behind it, just concern and exhaustion. She had a feeling that was going to become a familiar sentiment.

“I explained to them that when people get sick, their mind shows them things that aren’t there, like dreams. And they asked ‘Like sometimes when we have bad dreams?’ And they were right. I told them a silly story about 2 princesses who rode elephants. We hadn’t made it to the castle before they were asleep.” Philip responds factually. He resumes his post in the chair, and after a moment, wiggles. After a few more rounds of Philip trying to hide his discomfort, Charity speaks.

“Philip, he keeps extra shirts in the third drawer. Borrow one, your clothes still smell like the animals and I know you won’t sleep comfortably like that. Don’t mind me, I believe we’re going to get even closer for the next several days.”

—

If only Charity had known how right she was. It took 4 days for the fever to break. Over that span, an ugly, hacking cough had come and gone, his nose had run through several boxes of tissues, and he created a load of laundry that nearly overtook the corner it resided in. 

Philip had been a godsend. He’d distracted the girls with games and stories and a few slides down the banister, he’d helped with the servants, and he’d simply been a rock for Charity to lean on when she couldn’t handle much more. He’d been there when PT had woken himself or the others with his screams, he’d helped calm him down when Charity couldn’t be there, he’d helped keep him cool even with the protests from the ill man. Philip also knew he’d never get some of the things Barnum had said out of his head. He wasn’t sure how, but whenever it had been him and PT, without Charity, he rambled. And it chilled Philip to the bone. He talked about people out to get him, beating him for trying to feed himself, save his dad, and how death was so imminent he could see it. All Philip could do was hold Barnum closer and tighter and try to snap him out of it. The doctor had been by a few times, and at the second day’s visit had given Barnum a shot of something. He’d been unconscious all afternoon and evening, shaking with chills but so hot they didn’t want to cover him. They’d called the doctor, for it definitely felt like the “worse” he’d told them to call him for. They’d been right, for he’d practically boiled in his own skin. After the injection, the temperature came down some, and they were back to the routine of cooling him as best they could.

They were relieved, to say the least, that they were over the worst of it.

—

The first time Phineas opens his eyes and they’re clear of any feverish glaze, the first thing he does is cough. The sticky, ugly cough had left, but left him with a dry one instead. This, in turn, woke Charity, who nudged Philip. As he’d become used to being roused with nudges or kicks, he was surprisingly alert immediately. “Phin?” Charity gasped out. He turned towards her with a smile, and whispered.

“Hi darling.” It was raspy, quiet, and tinged with exhaustion, but he was mending.

Charity clung to him and shed a few tears. The stress from the last week was slowly beginning to melt away, and she couldn’t have been happier. They were finally over it.

—

It took another week before he was able to return to the circus, and several more before he could resume his post as ringmaster. The most thrilled of all of them were decidedly Caroline and Helen, as their dad being sick had turned them into shells of themselves. They were withdrawn, quiet, and clung to each other and the adult that was with them. It took several visits with the father to the circus to return them to something resembling their normal temperaments, and the first night their daddy was back on stage they cheered the loudest, danced the hardest, and laughed louder than anyone else. At least, according to Philip. Barnum and Charity concurred wholeheartedly. The girls weren’t the same when someone near to them was endangered, and this was the worst they’d seen their handsome, confident father. It was high time, in their opinion, that he go back to being PT Barnum from The Circus.

Philip prayed he’d never endure that again. It was the singularly most heartbreaking experience he’d had. Between PT’s ramblings, Charity’s overwhelming strength, and the girl’s introversion, nothing had been right. Everything, in fact, had been incredibly wrong. Philip vowed he was going to have a serious, long discussion with Barnum about what he’d said. And when they did, Philip had shed tears. He’d had a hard upbringing, but couldn’t have imagined Barnum’s stories. They never talked about it afterwards, but the first night back onstage, Philip watched him in a new light. The words held new meaning. He’d never look at him the same.

Charity was most affected by all of this. She had run herself ragged trying to keep everything together, and though Philip and the doctor both said otherwise, she still had felt like there was more to do for him. Through the night terrors, she’d held him closely, and belittled herself when she was doing something else and heard the shout from upstairs. She knew, after the first time she’d dropped everything and run to Phineas and found him already claiming down with Philip, that he was in good hands. Unfortunately, that did nothing to ease her guilt as a wife. She should've been sitting by his bedside, prepared for his every need. She wasn’t created that way though, and Philip reminded her that she had 2 beautiful little girls who still needed a parent, not a big brother, to comfort them. So she had been a mother. She’d ceded most of the household direction to Philip, however. She simply couldn’t do everything. She’d never know what happened when she wasn’t in with Philip and Phineas, nor what was said, but the way that Philip stayed close by and looked at her Phin with new admiration told her something had been disclosed. She was just thrilled to have her husband back to himself. The first night he’d been back on stage, she’d been watching him closely for any signs of fatigue. She wouldn’t have hesitated to stop the show to drag him back off to bed. Thankfully, no intervention was needed. The sleep he got that night, however, was deeper and more restful than she’d ever seen it, not to mention he slept later than he’d ever slept. She knew it was a sign of healing, but it didn’t stop her from checking his temperature with a swipe of her hand when she left the bed.  
—  
Barnum himself didn’t remember a lot of the week he was told he had a fever, but he remembered the dreams he’d had. People chasing him, the girls and Charity and Philip and the circus troupe walking away, and he was unable to call out after them, the venomous things they whispered about being insignificant and useless, he remembered those well. he had vague memories of being held tightly, and what felt like being tortured with knives of ice. He remembered tossing and turning, and being cold but denied any coverings. The last thing he remembers, for sure, is going out for that breath of air, and even that’s foggy at best. The first night he’s back onstage, it feels...right. Like something has clicked, and this is where he belongs.

Everyone wholeheartedly agrees.


End file.
